


Three Coffee Shops

by UnapologeticallyMeatwad



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Activism, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, Non-Binary Byleth, eat the rich, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2020-12-14 22:07:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21023003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnapologeticallyMeatwad/pseuds/UnapologeticallyMeatwad
Summary: Three Houses but it's a Coffee Shop AU.  Also, instead of dismantling the nobility and Crest system, Edelgard & The Black Eagles dismantle capitalism.   Fuck yeah.





	1. An Inevitable Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this chapter in one sitting because I got so excited. Hope you enjoy!

"_Hey…"_

The voice in their head is quiet and Byleth still believes themselves to be dreaming. They roll over in their sleep, things still fuzzy. Their dream went poorly, and maybe if they just take a few more minutes, they can drift back in and fix things…

"_Hey!"_

Byleth dreams of a corporation whose skyscraper is so prestigious that it ascend past the clouds. Men in suits scramble from their cubicle towards the elevator in a panic, but to their dismay the very thing they seek to avoid waits for them when the metal doors slide open: an uncouth looking man flanked by ten of his elites.

They advance onto the main floor of the corporate office menacingly, as if they own it, already barking commands.

Something about a buyout, or a _coup_, if you would. But despite the havoc, the CEO, a towering woman with yards of green hair wrapped tightly into a bun, marches forward with sheer determination in her eyes.

There's some kind of loophole, something that makes it so the bearded man can't buy… Byleth doesn't really get it. At this point, the summary is just, like — whatever. Byleth has never worked corporate; Jeralt has always said to be wary of anyone who has to wear a suit to work…

...though recently Jerlat made an addendum to that — dress shirts and skinny jeans are also bad news. Something to do with how Los Angeles' casual business code has trickled down to the East Coast and —

"_God dammit, Byleth! Are you listening to me?!"_

Okay, seriously, what is that? Byleth jerks awake and sees nothing but the door to their room. So they knock the blanket off and storm about their territory in an angry circle. They stomp about so aggressively that they bump their big toe into one of the cinder blocks holding their bed up.

(The cinder blocks are also Jeralt's idea. Byleth and their father share an apartment in New York wthat is so comically small, that they needed to boost their beds up so they could fit storage underneath.)

As Byleth yowls in pain, a girlish voice shrieks in their ear. "_You idiot! Your father makes you sound like the most skillful barista there ever was, yet here you are walking in to bricks!"_

Byleth pinches their lips together, holding back a biting insult, and throws themselves back onto the bed. The voice belongs to this AI, Sothis. It is unclear how it happened, but at some point in Byleth's life, their brain got chipped. For whatever reason, it apparently took several years before Sothis gained enough consciousness to be a voice in Byleth's head, and now she never shuts up.

It's weird though, having a voice in your head. Sometimes Byleth forgets that no one else can hear Sothis and says thing to her out loud, but really all they need to do is think it and Sothis will listen.

Just before Byleth can launch into a tirade, their door creaks open and their father, Jeralt, peeks his head in. "Hey, kid. Heard you stomping around, what's got you so up in arms?"

Byleth blinks. This is probably not the moment to tell their father about the weird robot —

— "_I'm not a robot, you dolt." _—

— in their head… God, would you give it a rest?

"_No. I will not give it a rest. So there!"_

Ugh.

Byleth can't think of anything so they sort of short circuit and just shrug Jeralt's remark away.

"Huh. Okay. Well, uh," Jeralt frowns, watching Byleth cautiously. He always watches them like they might explode. "I'm going to make some coffee so you better get ready to go in the next five minutes."

Byleth just stares.

Jeralt's frown sinks even deeper. "Kid, don't tell me you forgot about your interview today."

* * *

It's really embarrassing that Jeralt is going to the interview with Byleth. By this point in their barista career, Byleth knows how to handle themselves. Granted, they're not the best with — erm — schmaltzy corporate talk — so having Jeralt around might help, especially because the joint they're hitting up is some new independent place owned by a guy Jeralt used to work with.

It's also possible that Jeralt is going for broke and will try to net a job alongside Byleth. They could honestly both use the money right now.

They stand together on the subway in silence, the cart packed to the brim, leaving only the railings for riders to hold. Byleth kind of wants to practice another roleplay with their dad, but Jeralt is positively steaming at the sight of the many Wall Street monsters trapped in the cart with them. It's very rare for either Jeralt or Byleth to be on the same train as these 9-5 fuckos given the odd hours of customer service jobs, and clearly Jeralt is not yet adept at controlling his disdain for these people, so he keeps his mouth shut.

After a while, Byleth wanders over to one of the mirrors. It's dusty and riddled with etched-on obscenities, but they can at least catch their reflection in it.

Did they put too much make-up on? They were feeling cat-ears for eyeliner as they rushed out of the bathroom this morning, but taking a second to really look at it — it's a little too femme. Well, they're _feeling_ femme but… will the employer get it? Sometimes people don't understand how Byleth can be non-binary and just she/her them anyways, and —

"_You look fine,_" Sothis chides. "_Those people can suck a bag._"

The rumble of the train makes it hard for anyone to much of anything that isn't plugged directly into their ears, so Byleth chances talking out loud. "I'm nervous."

"_I know,"_ Sothis says. "_Actually, I have a tip for you."_

Byleth leans in closer to the mirror and pats down some of the split ends in their long, blue hair. "Yeah?"

"_Get off one stop early. Don't ask me why — something's telling me it's a good idea."_

Sothis always gives Byleth advice that objectively sounds really bad, but usually the robot… erm… the AI —

— "_Please. I'm a goddess!" _—

— is right. So Byleth turns towards their father and waves him down. "Dad?"

* * *

Sothis' idea sucks.

Because Jeralt and Byleth get off one stop early, they bump into a kerfuffle they wouldn't have seen otherwise. Some grubby looking man with three ponytails (ew) looks to be harassing these three people that are Byleth's age. One blonde dude, one brown guy with a side ponytail (nice), and a white haired girl. But the twenty-somethings are all dressed to the nines in these gorgeous suits.

Jeralt pulls Byleth in closer so that they can ignore it — Google Maps says that their little excursion cost them five minutes of padd and now they need to hustle to make it on time— but Byleth can't just look away from this. So Byleth stops and asks Jeralt to table the interview for both of them.

Jeralt shrugs because he probably has a better shot at getting them both gigs than if they came in separately.

"What seems to be the hold-up?" Byleth crosses their arms once they breach the inner-circle of these people.

The burly one, the aggressor, looks to them. Dim recognition flashes in eyes. "H-hey! I know you! You're Barista Jeralt's kid!"

"B-Barista Jeralt?" Byleth stutters.

The burly man reaches forward and grabs Byleth's hand, almost yanking it off the wrist for a shake. "I'm Kostas! Owner of Kostas' Coffee! You should get to know these fellas right here."

The white haired girl leers at Kostas and shakes her head, violet eyes swinging over to Byleth. "Edelgard Von Hresvelg," she cracks a small smile, extending a white gloved hand to the stunned Byleth.

"_Who wears white gloves? What is she — Mickey Mouse?_" Sothis blurts out in Byleth's head.

"_More like Scrooge McDuck, Von Hresvelg is a huge coffee conglomerate thing," _Byleth thinks back.

The blond boy shakes Byleth's hand next. He definitely looks the part of a young businessman, what with his neatly cropped hair and perfect complexion. "Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, next in line to run Blaiddyd Industries," he grins, and then jerks his head towards Edelgard. "As Edelgard is next in line to run her family's respective company."

A little wrinkle of irritation knits itself between Edelgard's eyebrows. "I didn't say anything about that because this is the daughter of Barista Jeral— "

Byleth meekly raises their hand. "Offspring!" they cut in.

Edelgard eyes Byleth curiously, and then smiles to herself. "This is the offspring of Barista Jeralt — of course they'd know the Von Hresvelg line."

Dimitri shakes his head. "Your hubris will one day be the death of — "

"Hey! I'm here too!" the other boy chimes in, waving his hand in the air enthusiastically. "Claude von Riegan's the name. We're uh — lesser known in this neck of the woods, but over in Cali — top notch stuff! Anyways, nice to meet ya, Byleth."

Kostas leans in and throws both of his arms over the gang's shoulders. "Come. Have coffee with me."

* * *

It takes several minutes for the gang to suss out the details while Kostas escapes to the backroom to grab some coffee for the four of them, but basically Kostas is poaching them?

Edelgard, Dimitri, and Claude are all going to be attending the famed barista school at Garreg Mach where they can get some hands-on experience in running a coffee shop. The school shares its leadership with Seiros Incorporated, the always expanding coffee brand ran by the woman only known as Rhea.

Students at Garreg Mach are given the opportunity to run her stores. Some call it a scam intended to shave business costs with free labor, others call it the most important coffee experience a young barista can have.

Though Edelgard, Dimitri, and Claude all have high up opportunities waiting for them, Kostas is offering them a deal — work for him, make lots of money, and ditch Garreg Mach.

Byleth thinks that Kostas is a weasley jerk — but working for Seiros Incorporated? Just the idea of it would make Jeralt vomit. Those guys are so corporate that they have one of those social media accounts that pretends to be a real person.

"I am unsure of how I feel towards Seiros Incorporated," Edelgard frowns as she empties a packet of Stevia into her coffee. "But it is the center of the coffee making world."

"True that," Claude leans back, arms folded over his head. "Those are the kinda guys you want to rub elbows with."

Byleth raises an eyebrow. "Why do you all want to work in a coffee shop so badly? It kind of sucks."

Dimitri almost spits out his coff—oh, he actually does spit it out. It takes him a moment to recover.

"Byleth," Dimitri announces boldly. "The three of us may be entrepreneurs-to-be — but we don't want to be like those other CEOs who have no hands-on experience. Look at this horrible man we have here…"

Dimitri gestures over to Kostas, who also performs his own spit take. He's more angry about his spit take though.

"...never in a million years would any of us consider working with him," Dimitri explains. "But here we are. Sharing a cup of coffee, and I am glad we are, Kostas. It reminds me why I want to run Blaiddyd Industries. I want to bring people together and — "

" — oh, already poaching Barista Jeralt's offspring, are you, Dimitri?" Edelgard teases.

A faint pink crawls up Dimitri's cheeks and he turns away. "Please, Edelgard. Let me say what I must."

"Hmph," Edelgard chuckles. "Byleth, forgive my being forward — but Von Hresvelg Incorporated has suffered from a long line of inadequate leaders, the last being my father whose power was stripped away after a hostile takeover from the boardroom. We need people like you on our team. People who are humble."

"Humble?" Byleth repeats. "How do you know I'm — "

"You didn't even know that your father was_ the_ Barista Jeralt," Edelgard shrugs noncommittally. "Winner of the International Barista Championship Ten Years in a row, famous for refusing opportunities from esteemed coffee companies like my own in fact, that is… until Rhea Incorporated came along."

Byleth feels a knot twist into their stomach. "My father worked for Rhea Incorporated?"

Claude nods. "Yeah, man. Dude turned into a total schill for a hot second — " he pauses when he notices the death glares from Edelgard and Dimitri, and then flashes a cavalier grin to Byleth and jerks a thumb over at the nonplussed royals. " — they still think it's cool to work for big money."

Byleth raises an eyebrow. "But aren't you inheriting your family's business too?"

Claude shrugs. "Eh, look at it this way — Edelgard and Dimitri are like — Kroger and Albertson's. I'm the Trader Joe's in all this."

Byleth narrows their eyes; Jeralt warned them never to trust those Hawaiian shirts.

"Hey!" Kostas pounds the table. "I'm still here, you jerks! Come on! Do you want to work for me or what?"

Dimitri snorts. "I think we made ourselves quite clear already."

"Yeah man, learn to read the room," Claude laughs.

And as the finishing blow, Edelgard titters into her mug. "You must be quite foolish to think you can sway us. I, for one, am going to use my coffee company to change the world, starting off with eliminating the corporate structure of — "

Kostas' face gets so red that he gets up with a start and lifts his coffee mug into the air and —

"_Byleth, don't you dare get in the way of that coffee flying towards that smug little girl!"_

— Byleth rushes forward, gently patting Edelgard on the chest so that they can squeeze themselves in-between the table and the girl —

"_Oh my god! Byleth, you are going to get us both ki_—"

_Splash._

The burn is unbearable.

* * *

Fortunately, Sothis apparently has the ability to turn back the hands of time.

Yeah. Crazy, right?

It just drains a lot of battery, so Byleth has to like — find out how to charge the chip and stuff.

But yes! Time rewind!

* * *

This time, Byleth brings their own mug over when they wedge themselves between Edelgard and the table. They swing it at the air and miraculously scoop Kostas' flying stream of coffee clean out of the air. Byleth then flips the mug into their open palm and holds it up to Kostas' nose.

"Would you like cream or sugar?" Byleth smiles.

Kostas gets even redder. "You — "

It's just then that the doors burst open, and a large man with beady eyes and a silly mustache saunters in. "Your unethical coffee shops day are over, Kostas! Or should I say — _pour_ over! Ha ha ha! Um. Get it? Pour… over…?"

No one laughs.

Kostas swipes at the air and lurches forward. "You got nothing on me!"

"I'm afraid I do," the mustachioed man holds a contract out to the air. "Health inspection violations, and I also have intel that you skimmed tips from your employees. Therefore — "

Crash.

Kostas jumped out a window. It's a dramatic world they live in.

"Why do they always run?" the man turns on his heel and charges forward, only to bump into Jeralt whose girth takes up the whole exit. "Wha — wait! Barista Jeralt! Barista Jeralt the Brew Breaker?! What are _you_ doing here?"

"Huh?" Jeralt pats his head. "Who are — wait — Alois?! What _are _you doing here?"

The man, Alois, thumps himself on the chest. "Barista Jeralt — I am honored to say that thanks to your mentorship I am now one of the heads of the anti-corruption team over at Seiros Incorporated!"

Jeralt frowns and glances at the broken window. "You must have a thrilling life."

"I do!" Alois laughs, he starts to say something else but Jeralt promptly cuts him off.

"Hey, kid, I messed up the interview," Jeralt frowns. "Want to grab a beer with me closer to the apartment?"

Byleth frowns back. "Am I twenty one yet?"

Jeralt finds a way to frown back harder. "Oh. Um. I don't know. No one knows when you were born. Anyways, let's — uh — let's get going."

Claude leans in and whispers into Byleth's ear, "You're totally twenty one, my friend."

Jeralt's frown falls so far down that he looks like an upside down. "Hey, don't go giving them ideas, it's private and uh — hey! Kid! Let's get going!"

Alois wipes some of the sweat from his brow. "Well, be seeing you, I guess — hey… wait a second, that's not how this ends! I insist that you come with us to Garreg Mach!"

Jeralt frowns again, but a little softer this time. "I guess we should, huh? With me blowing the gig and crap… okay. Yeah. Even I know not to run from the Baristas of Seiros."

* * *

The thing that impresses Byleth the most about all of this is that none of the Baristas of Seiros — which includes Edelgard, Claude, and Dimitri — take the train. It's Lyft and Uber for them all the way, baby!

They don't even ask for Byleth and Jeralt's accounts to split the bill! Crazy.

For whatever reason, Alois pushes for the two unemployed baristas to meet the CEO of Seiros Industries, which is — a lot? But at this point, Byleth just kind of wants to see what crazy shenanigans come from this.

The CEO — Rhea — has a massive office. It almost feels like it must take up its own story in this building. An ornate rug rolls across the floor, and the walls are adorned by paintings that are — pretty religious. Kind of gives Byleth the heebie jeebies.

After about one minute of walking, the green haired woman, Rhea — who looks remarkably similar to the woman from their dreams — gets up and marches towards the duo with an outstretched hand. Decked out in pinstripes, she is emblematic of the _girl boss_. Byleth wouldn't be surprised if this was a woman that yelled at baristas every day after they mess up her 140 degree cafe misto with coconut milk that is light on the foam.

Rhea grins from ear to ear and says, "Jeralt — it's so good to see you again! And you must be — Jeralt's child?"

Byleth blinks. They got distracted by the immaculate view of New York that lies just beyond the glass wall. Byleth double takes and looks Rhea right in the eye. It gives them chills. "Yes."

"Byleth was born several years after my time working for you, heh," Jeralt adds awkwardly.

Rhea looks up at Jeralt, seemingly confused, but shrugs it away. "Either way, it's good to meet the two of you. I know this is a little fast, but I need your help."

Jeralt bites his lip, but doesn't say anything. Very unlike him. He's usually the one to blurt out inappropriate things at the worst of times. Like the time he handed a coffee to some off-duty cop and called them "a fucking fascist."

"At the Barista's Academy this year, we have Three Houses for the Three Coffee Shops we've collected — Von Hresvelg, Von Riegan, and Blaiddyd. But we are missing a professor."

Tsch, a Professor job for Jeralt? He'd be really bad at that —

Rhea suddenly turns on Byleth. "I want _you_ to help teach them."

* * *

Things pass by so quickly.

Byleth is hired to be a professor to baristas with very little ceremony. Quickly, they are ferried over to Garreg Mach via a Lyft. Jeralt says nothing to Byleth the whole ride.

Jeralt has been hired to help out on Alois' anti-corruption team. Probably a good job for him, though it seems like the Baristas of Seiros mostly target smaller, independent coffee shops like Kostas… so maybe it's a bad job for him.

As the Lyft pulls up to the rustic looking academy, Jeralt heaves in a deep sigh. "Looks the same as ever."

Byleth gives their father a meaningful look.

Jeralt looks back and pats them on the shoulder. "I know you must have a lot of questions by now — I'll answer them. But first off, let's get you settled."

* * *

Meeting the two other professors is something of a relief. They seem far more grounded than the hoity toity Rhea and her assistant with all of that flop-sweat, Seteth.

Professor Hanneman is quite old, with a fine swoop of snow white hair above his receding hairline. The monocle is a bit much, but from his worn hands, it is clear to Byleth that the man has been working in coffee shops for a long time now. Apparently, he is highborn enough to have been able to afford one of the Ivy Leagues. He studied to be an economist, but learning more made him only feel more disdain for the corporate conglomerates that are seizing the economy by the throat. He writes academic papers at a consistent rate, but no one cares to read them so here he is, living paycheck to paycheck while he waits for something to finally happen for him.

"I'm surprised Rhea hired me," Hanneman says at the end of his spiel. "A lot of my ideals go up against hers — but then again, I suppose we are just training these kids to be baristas and shift managers." He takes in a sip of tea. "Oh and CEOs. How could I possibly forget?"

The other Professor, Manuela, slaps him in the bicep, laughing as he doubles over in pain.

"Manuela, I am too old now for your abuse," Hanneman whines.

Manuela pointedly ignores him. "You're just too funny, Hanneman."

Manulea and Byleth have one thing in common — their ages are both mysteries even though it's really obvious how old they are. Manuela is likely in her early 40s. Head shaped like a heart, crows feet and laugh lines etching into her face, she seems content with where she is right now. She's lived in New York her whole life, and for a long time, was a major player on Broadway. But after a while, she got a little sick of it — as to why, she wouldn't say — and picked up some barista work after having found so much joy in coffee shops herself.

And Byleth, the child of Barista Jeralt the Brew Breaker, is a broke twenty something who has been working since they were (probably) fourteen (who knows really? Ugh.) Their father has definitely pulled a few — questionable — things on them, but they're thankful for it. They're thankful for everything nowadays.

"You know, Professor," Hanneman says. "Do you mind if I call you Professor, by the way? I think it's fun, seeing how young you are."

"I don't mind," Byleth shrugs.

"Excellent, anywho, Professor," Hanneman beams at them. "Your personality type tells me that you should lead the Golden Deer — that's Claude's House. They are mostly middle-class people who just want to work. _However_, the Black Eagles, lead by Edelgard, are — well let's just say some of them haven't worked a day of their lives."

Byleth pales. Edelgard does seem like the type.

Hanneman continues, "I think it would do them — and possibly _you_ — the most good if you taught them. They need someone like you."

Byleth thinks about it.

Earlier, Edelgard was saying something about dismantling the corporate hierarchy. That _would_ be a good thing. But Edelgard is also high born, and likely not to follow her word if she is to eventually sit at such a high seat. Maybe with some guidance from a scrappy kid like Byleth…

Byleth grins and clinks mugs with Manuela and Hanneman. "I choose Edelgard!" they cheer.

"Uh — Byleth, honey, I think you mean you choose the Black Eagles," Manuela chastises.

"Oh, um, right," Byleth raises their mug high to hide the blush, and though Hanneman and Manuela are merciful enough not to laugh at their expense, Byleth does notice their fellow professors' smiles stretch a little past the rim of their mugs.

* * *

There is a knock at Byleth's door at exactly eleven twenty seven.

That same night, Byleth cannot sleep. They've been put up in his bedroom that is possibly the size of their whole apartment. Jeralt gave Byleth the option to come home with him for one last night in the old digs before he breaks the lease, but Byleth would rather just not have a formal goodbye to that grimy room.

So though it is rude to knock on one's door past eleven, Byleth is thankful for the company. They open the door to see Edelgard, still dressed in her suit, though at least the top button has been undone.

"Hello, Professor," Edelgard says softly.

"Um… hi," Byleth frowns. "Is — is something the matter?"

"Huh? Oh, oh no, not at all," Edelgard leans up against the door frame, a little presumptuously. "I'm just tired. I, ah, received a text message from Hubert that you will be leading our class this year?"

Byleth nods.

"Excellent," Edelgard smiles. "I'm not sure if they told you, but within two weeks, we will be competing with the other houses in a barista championship. The winner will get to work at the high traffic location at Times Square."

"Wow," Byleth utters. This is all so much.

"We will need to train hard if we want to win," Edelgard throws a hand to her hip. "The Golden Deer class has so many former baristas in their roster, like Ignatz, Raphael, Hilda, and I think even Claude, though he might have been a bartender."

"What about you?" Byleth asks suddenly.

Edelgard eyes Byleth carefully. "Wh-what about me?"

"H-have you worked?"

It feels a little bold to ask, but it is important for Byleth to at least know what they are working with if they are serious about doing well here.

"O-oh, no, not yet, I'm embarrassed to say."

Hmph. Lotta talk from someone who wants to destroy the corporate structure. But then again, there is no reason to be judgmental and _besides_, Byleth chose Edelgard for a reason. They'll give them as many chances as they need.

"It's okay," Byleth smiles. "You will. Starting tomorrow."

"Good," Edelgard nods.

A heavy pause passes between them. It feels like it's time to say good night, at least — if this were a normal student - teacher dynamic.

"I'm just worried about the others is all," Edelgard says in a hurry. "Caspar can be so brutish, he has a very poor track record with customer service. And Linhardt despises coffee because it makes it harder for him to take naps — and Ferdinand hates coffee. Then again, I think he only hates it because Hubert loves coffee so much and —"

"Edelgard?"

" — honestly Ferdinand just seems to dislike what other people seem to — oh, sorry, you said something?"

Byleth tries to stiffen their spine a little, look a little more tough. They are probably the same age as Edelgard and they even probably share many of the same insecurities, but if this is to work out then… they will need to stow those feelings away and be strong. That's like — Lesson #1 of Capitalism:

Emotional Labor sucks but you have to take it on.

"We'll win," Byleth fakes a smile, not knowing if that's true. "Get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

Thankfully, Edelgard doesn't catch the obvious lie. Possibly because she seems worn out enough to believe just about anything at this hour. She presses her hands to thighs and politely bows forward.

"Thank you, my teacher."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can [follow me on Twitter](https://twitter.com/IAmLordMeatwad) for tweets about my cats and fanfic, and [follow me on Insta](https://www.instagram.com/katrinajagelski/) for similar stuff. Occasionally I do live reads for my original fiction and fanfic.


	2. Rivalry of the Houses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. It's been a really rough set of weeks. I'm in a lawsuit now I guess, and my cat has gingivitis. But this chapter was fun to write, and very cathartic as a long time barista!

Three Coffee Shops. Each staffed by nine employees. Some haven't worked a day of their lives, some have worked every day they've had available.

The shops are arranged in a triangle formation at the center of a warehouse. The baristas stare at each other openly while they await the beginning of the Mock Battle.

Three separate lines of one hundred customers stare them down too, because they are all late for work and really just want to order their drinks and pastries so they can all go to their meetings late with SeirosBucks.

"Are you alright?" Byleth asks Edelgard, who has been striding back and forth through the length of their bar.

Edelgard locks eyes with a quietly intense Dimitri when she speaks to Byleth. "I am concerned, yes. Are you sure placing Ferdinand on Register #2 is a good idea?"

"Edelgard!" Ferdinand frowns, draping his bare forearms across the register, unable to fully conceal his smirk. "You are just anxious that my performance will exceed yours and once and for all I shall prove my superiority."

Edelgard pinches the bridge of her nose. "Ferdinand, that's not the — "

"Shall I dispose of Mister Von Aegir, Lady Edelgard?" Edelgard's scary looking retainer, Hubert, coos over from the pastry case.

"No, Hubert!" Edelgard frowns. "Please be civil. Um — did you check for the poisons?"

Caspar and Dorothea lean back from the bar and stare at Hubert with puppet-like slackjaws. "Poison!?" they yelp in unison.

Hubert nods. "Yes. I have found some planted by the Golden Deer."

"Hey, I heard that!" Claude shouts from across the main floor. He grimaces and holds up a little packet with a skull taped across it. "And F-Y-I, I found your poisons too, Black Eagle."

Hubert's face goes bright red and he buries his shame into his hand, turning away immediately.

Edelgard's face goes redder. "Hubert! I told you not to — "

"It was for the greater good, Lady Edelgard!" Hubert shouts, probably more angry with himself than anything.

Byleth just shakes their head; the past two weeks have been nothing but spats of this nature. At this point they would be shocked if Hubert_ didn't_ try poison someone. By now, Byleth is pretty positive that Professor Hanneman tricked Byleth into picking the worst possible House so that he could get his mitts on the Blue Lions, easily the most stable group of students from Garreg Mach.

Byleth turns to the rest of their team: Bernadetta on pastries, Linhardt on ovens, and Petra on store support. "Are you all relatively well adjusted?"

Bernadetta bites down so hard on her lip that she needn't say more.

Linhardt yawns — as is his character.

And Petra grimaces and leans back, spinning her broom off of the floor, left hand snatching the mop from its bucket, and landing into a badass duel wielding stance that is…

"Entirely unproductive, Petra," Byleth frowns. "But good form nevertheless."

The rest of the room goes quiet, and Byleth turns to witness the commotion.

Seteth, Rhea's First Executive Assistant, strides to the center of the room alongside his quote-unquote _sister_, Flayn, who is Rhea's _Second_ Executive Assistant. Seteth offers a loud _harumph!_ for those who have not yet noticed his presence, and folds his arms behind his back.

"The Mock Battle is a Garreg Mach tradition. As you all know, the winner will be taking ownership of our high traffic location at Times Square," Seteth explains in his usual steady and unwavering cadence. "You each will serve one hundred customers to perfection. If the customers have complaints, I have made sure that they _will_ let you know, and you will correct your errors. Which you are sure to make because some of these customers are very needy — "

A loud, snivelly voice bellows from the back of one of the lines. "I like my latte at 145 degrees exactly, got it?!"

Seteth shakes his head. "Not yet, Mister Von Aegir."

Over at the Black Eagles' bar, Caspar nudges Ferdinand with his elbow. "Your dad's a total chump, Ferdinand!"

Ferdinand blushes. "While I find your choice of words inappropriate given his seat on Von Hresvelg's board of directors, I understand the sentiment and do find some truth to it."

Seteth, ignoring the exchange, looks down to Flayn. "Flayn, might you explain the rules?"

Flayn, the wide eyed girl who is _absolutely_ Seteth's daughter — Byleth doesn't get how people can be fooled by this — cutely_ harumphs_! like her 'brother' and calls out to the room. "Each House will be rated out of five stars, like on Yelp. The first House to finish their line with perfect orders will be awarded a ⅗. The second House will receive a ⅖, as the last will receive a ⅕. Bonus points will be given for stellar, above-the-line customer service, but it will take many of those points to gain another star. Because… um, Fath—brother, I mean (See?! She just called him Dad! How do people not get — whatever.) — could you…"

"It's because people really don't give a shit sometimes as long as they walk out the door with what they want," Seteth squeezes the bridge of his nose as if adjusting an invisible set of glasses. "Are there any questions?"

The snivelly voice returns, "You kids know how to make a latte 145 degrees, right?"

Seteth opens his mouth, but an even louder interrupts it all. "I was wondering that too, actually. Oh, um — also put my leftover foam in an extra cup!"

"Von Bergiliez and Von Aegir, that is enough!" Seteth snaps.

This time, it is Ferdinand who nudges Caspar. "Forgive my rudeness, but I believe your father and my father are on the same page, if not on entirely different levels of _chump_ness, as you put it."

Caspar swipes at his turquoise locks, hoping that somehow his crew cut will hide his red-tipped ears.

"Blue Lions! Golden Deer! Black Eagles!" Seteth calls out and all heads turn again. "On your mark… get set… go!"

* * *

Everything hurts.

Byleth has been barista. Been shift supervisor. Been assistant manager. Been their dad's damage control person when he calls people "fucking fascists."

But this?

"_It's not too late to throw your apron to the floor and run,"_ Sothis chimes in Byleth's head.

"_No, I'm getting paid through the nose for this job," _Byleth thinks back.

"_Liar! We all know Rhea underpays everyone, even that Seteth schlub."_

"_Okay, maybe I just don't want to count on my dad 'hooking me up' with anymore gigs."_

That's not really it though, and Sothis knows that. Byleth even knows it. Everyone is working their hardest against all odds but it is not enough.

Drinks have been spilled countless times, back-up batches of coffee have been late, and swears have been thrown at their students like gauntlets wanting a duel. If not for Sothis having a very literal voice in Byleth's head, it would be impossible for Byleth to even hear themselves think.

No training could have prepared anyone for this. This is a wave of ruthless rich people that even a team of nine Byleths would faulter to, and they only have one Byleth (obviously). Bernadetta is crying, Dorothea is seething, Caspar and Edelgard are about to say something they will regret, and Hubert has already said things most people would regret.

How could this possibly get any worse?

* * *

"I am Ferdinand Von Aegir!" Ferdinand says to the newest customer, reaching out to shake their hand. He gets through the order quickly — a triple 16 oz latte with two raw sugars — and promptly moves on to the next customer.

"I am Ferdinand Von Aegir!" Ferdinand repeats, shaking hands with the next customer.

Byleth, scrambling to the back to pull the thawing pastries from the rack, freezes in place. "Ferdinand — are you saying that to everyone?

Ferdinand scratches his head. "What? _I am Ferdinand Von Aegir_?"

Edelgard slips in, "The answer is _Yes_, my teacher."

Byleth bites their lip. "Ferdinand, you can't — there's no reason to — "

Ferdinand wags a finger at Byleth, as if he is the wisest man in the world, which at this point he might as well be. "Au contraire, Professor. I, Ferdinand Von Aegir — "

"We know," Byleth deadpans.

" — must have the people remember my name for when I become an illustrious coffee CEO, and — "

"Whatever," Byleth frowns, leaning back into their sprint to the back.

"That's what I said, Professor," Edelgard tosses over her shoulder..

* * *

Linhardt didn't sign up for this.

Who would have known tearing plastic bags off frozen foods and using tongs to place them in an oven would be hard?

It's the hardest thing!

His ears pound in turmoil as he rotates from the top oven to the bottom, queuing up breakfast sandwich after breakfast sandwich. It doesn't seem like it will ever end. And here he was thinking the 45 seconds most sandwiches spend in the oven would be ample time to set himself up for the next toasting but no! He's always late! Always hurrying!

Heck, after one of the Sausage Egg & Cheeses finishes, he grabs the tongs and stabs at the sandwich, pulling it out only for some of the bubbling hot cheese to fly off and nail him in the wrist.

"AGH!" he screams, dropping everything onto the floor, ducking his hand under a faucet and cooling the burn fast. Damn. Stupid cheese left an inch long pink gash on the back of his hand.

A beep from the bottom oven, and he dives for his back-up tongs, throwing open the oven to grab the set of Bacon and Cheese Sandwiches that these two girls have waited at least fifteen minutes for. But in his attempt to grab both sandwiches, he squeezes down too hard and more cheese flies out.

He ducks low, avoiding the cheesy bullets. But him being low tilts the tongs up, and oil pours down from the sandwiches and onto his wrists. Like the past sandwiches, these also meet the floor.

"Professor!" Linhardt moans. "Why did you give me the hardest job?"

Caspar looks over his shoulder, his arms so tense it appears he is holding down a horse when really he is just having a fundamental misunderstanding on how to steam a latte. "Hard? My job is hard! Your job is easy, Linhardt!"

Linhardt's eyes bug out of his round face. "DID YOU SEE THE FLYING CHEESE?!"

* * *

"Excuse me, sir? Sir? Sir? My cappucino is _wet_. I asked for dry."

"Huh?" Caspar rubs his head. "Of course, it's wet, it's milk. Milk is wet."

The customer opens her mouth, probably about to say the meanest thing she will ever denounce in her life, but fortunately for Caspar, Byleth dives in for the save.

"Caspar, do you not know what a cappucino is?" Byleth asks.

"Of course I do!" Caspar pumps a fist into the air. "It's expresso and steamed — "

"ESPRESSO, CASPAR!" Lindhardt hollers over the oven. "E_SSSSSSSSS_PRESSO!"

Caspar blushes. "Aw yeah, espresso and steamed — "

Byleth shakes their head and drags Caspar down. "Watch."

Byleth fills the metal tin to the second line. "You use less milk for a cappucino because foam takes up more mass." They stick the steaming rod into the lip of the tin, and a high-pitched wail screechs into the air, the milk simmering violently in response. Gently, Byleth raises the mug, quelling the wail as the milk passes over it. The bubbles pop away, and the milk swirls into a whirlpool, wavering. "Three to five seconds for a latte." A vortex forms besides the steaming rod, milk softly warping into foam. "Five to six for wet cappucinos. Eight for regular, ten for dry. Lattes are light foam with milk, cappucinos are heavy foam with milk. It sounds like you made her a latte with extra foam."

"Wait, wait, let me try!" Caspar jams the next tin of milk into the road, clutching the tin as if squeezing it may keep it steady. Who knows with him. He starts counting rapidly. "Onetwothreefourfive—"

"Missisipis, Caspar," Byleth adds. "You have to count in Mississipis."

Caspar looks at Byleth like they have two heads. "Um — Professor, we're in New York."

"What?" Byleth starts to get a little angry now. "I know we're in New Yo—"

"YEAH?! WELL FUCK YOU TOO, BUDDY!" Dorothea cries out from behind Byleth.

Oh please, have mercy. Byleth stumbles through the rest of their statement. "—oh my god, Caspar, um, use Mississipis, trust me, I need to — um — "

Byleth whirls on Dorothea who is leaning up on the bar so that her feet kick up into the air. She shakes her fist and drops back down, simmering like steamed milk while she properly prepares the next latte with solid technique.

"Um…" Byleth starts.

"Ancient history," Dorothea clicks her tongue. "Creep fawned over me when I played Roxie Hart in _Chicago_, and now he's yelling at me for not smiling when I say his name."

Byleth opens their mouth, not even sure how to approach this. Ultimately, they cringe. "Service with a smile?"

"Not for that fucko — " Dorothea mutters, swinging the finished latte up into the air. "I HAVE A SOY MOCHA WITH WHIPPED CREAM — whichhasdairyinityouposer — FOR TOM!"

Everything goes hazy as Byleth totally diassociates.

"_Byleth?_" Sothis' voice breaks into their void.

"This is worse than working with Dad," Byleth laments out loud.

"_Um — I was gonna say that Bernadetta is crying."_

* * *

In a brief break from the anarchy, Byleth cannot help themselves but check-in to see how the other Houses are doing, if it's even worth staving off a panic attack in the name of winning. They smile when they notice how everyone is hurting.

While the Golden Deer are easily the most experienced, it is clear that the thick tension is beginning to break out. Amidst the soundscape, one clear voice has been ringing the whole time, a snivelly, posh voice continuously chastising Claude.

At first, Byleth shrugged it off as the voice likely being Ferdinand's father, but upon getting a visual of it, it's obvious that Lorenz is bizarrely enough attempting to stage a coup at this very moment of all times.

"For too long, fellow Golden Deer, we have listened to what this incorrigible nitwit has been telling us!" Lorenz sends a splayed hand so high in the air that Byleth is afraid it might take flight.

Even Hilda clicks her tongue at the suave business boy, "Yeah, Claude, I love you but you're really not communicating well right now."

"Guys," Claude runs a hand through his hair, while trying to steady a metal tin of frothing milk. "Now is not the time to — "

That snivelly voice cries out again. "Ooh! Ooh! That boy touched his hair, he has to wash his hands and then remake my drink because he touching it! Ha ha! Wash your hands, boy!"

Ooooh, yeah, that time it is_ definitely_ Ferdinand's father.

Satisfied with the chaos that has befallen the Golden Deer, Byleth turns to the Blue Lions. Sylvain hops off his register and rushes up to the stoic Dimitri in a panic.

"Dimitri," Sylvain pants. "There's — too — many — orders. I — I — I don't know how we can catch up a-and — "

Dimitri stops in place and says nothing, eyes darkening as unpleasant wrinkles contort his normally plain visage.

" — we need to do something? Maybe have the GD kids pick up some of our slack? We'll lose points but — I just — I just don't see how this is possible."

Dimitri remains still.

"Dimitri," Sylvain repeats. "What do we do about the orders?"

Dimitri tilts his chin up high, looking down at Sylvain as if he might just murder him in cold blood. When he finally speaks, his voice comes out as a rough bark, completely unhinged.

"_**FILL EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM!"**_ he screams at the top of his lungs, charging towards the bar.

Wow.

Okay, so everyone else is burning is Hell too. That's… good?

* * *

After ten different complicated orders in a row, a spry man with a square jaw approaches Edelgard and slaps a newspaper across her. "Black coffee and this," he murmurs.

Edelgard frowns, and takes a moment to click the correct buttons on the register. This is still so new to her. She hits each key with a single finger, like an elderly person whose never typed on a keyboard before.

"So… what's happening in the news today?" Edelgard asks, forcing a chuckle in the hopes of filling out her slow pace with small talk.

"Oh, you know, usual catastrophic stuff, with The Idiot in Charge," the customer rolls his eyes. "Today it's all about that stupid environemtal protest at Chevron the other day. You heard about that, right?"

Edelgard did, and already dislikes this man, so she turns away and grabs his black coffee from the machine, trying to ease her temper by the time she returns. "$7.54, please."

The customer hands Edelgard his credit card, continuing to blabber on. "These leftwing nuts don't know what they're doing. I'm glad the Times interviewed the guys running Chevron so they could teach us about real sustainability…"

"What are you talking— " Edelgard blurts out, but fortunately, the man misses the potential grievance. "Pin number, please."

"I think we've forgotten how to be civil nowadays," the customer says, draping his arm farther across the bar then necessary as he pops his four digit code in.

Edelgard can't help herself anymore. "Chevron and all of those big oil companies are killing us! Day by day! And you want to talk about civility?"

Everything stops as eyes turn on Edelgard.

Edelgard lashes out again, "Shame on the New York Times for covering the story that way, but I guess I'm not surprised with how they've been getting increasingly centrist and — "

The customer raises a hand for Edelgard to stop talking, and leans towards her in bemusement. "You're one to talk. Working at SeirosBucks, probably the most corporate fast food chain in America."

Edelgard gets very red in the face. "For your information, I have to work here, at a corporation like this, if I am to realize my hopes and dreams of changing the capitalist landscape fore—"

"That's enough, Edelgard!" Byleth screams from across the bar, rushing in and grabbing them by the arm. "Take bar," they whisper into the girl's ear.

Edelgard bites her lip. "My teacher, I'm sorry, I have failed — "

"It's okay," Byleth gently pushes her off to her next station, immediately moving so that Caspar can swap in for register.

"Whoa," Caspar laughs. "What are we arguing about?"

The customer, certainly disappointed by losing the opportunity to go off on someone far lower on the totem pole than he, frowns. "Politics."

"Tsch, nerd!" Caspar giggles, returning the man's credit card. "I mean — uh — cool, dude! Nice tie by the way!"

Immediately the vulture like prowl in the customer's eyes dissipates. He grabs at his tie smugly. "You think?!"

* * *

For what might be the fortieth time that day, Ferdinand repeats, "I am Ferdinand Von Aegir!" in the same chipper demeanor, and it is not just Edelgard and Byleth who feel aggravated, it is the customers.

"I don't care who you are!" a middle-aged man shouts at Ferdinand. "You are nothing to me!"

Ferdinand frowns, like a peacock might in place of ruffling their feathers, and puffs out his chest. "My name does matter for I am Ferdinand Von Aegir! You will remember me and — "

Byleth swoops onto the screen, gripping Ferdinand by the forearm. "Come on, Ferdie, you're swapping with — um — um — "

Byleth scans their team quickly. Who would be good on reg? Dorothea is too mean, Petra can be slow, Linhardt is careless, and — and — fuck, it has to be Hubert.

No! There has to be another way!

…

No, there isn't.

Byleth grabs Hubert by the bicep with their other arm and swirls him across the floor and right to the register. Not missing a beat, Hubert continues the interaction as if he were present the whole time. "Excuse my rude friend there," Hubert grins sardonically. "For his insolence, we shall make an example of him."

The customer is flummoxed. "Guh — whatever, okay. I just want a coffee, okay?"

Hubert frowns. "Would you like our light, medium, or dark roast?"

"I don't care. Just coffee, okay? Geez."

Phew, thank goodness. The man is moving on and —

"You don't — care?" Hubert frowns.

Byleth senses a flare of anger seething below Hubert's calm, dulcet tone. Dammit. They need to jump into this and prevent the grenade from hitting the customer with shrapnel but they also need to get Ferdinand settled into his new role…

"You are at our store today, sir, to order coffee that you could make yourself at home for a fraction of the cost," Hubert leans against the bar dangerously. "I will not stand for you ordering _just_ coffee. You will tell me what you like about coffee and we will work together to give you the best possible drink befitting of your palate."

"F-f-fuck!" the man stutters. "Dude! I just want to wake up!"

"You would have taken a caffeine pill if you were so careless," Hubert shakes his head. "If you are to pay top dollar for this coffee, it is important to me that you choose correctly."

The man rubs his head, as if never having been confronted before. "Um. Fuck."

"I hope you don't work in Communications, my friend," Hubert shakes his head with such pity. "Our Dark Roast today is French. It has a strong chocolate flavor that tantalizes the — "

"I just want coffee!" the man whines like a baby, or like Linhardt when woken from a nap prematurely.

Hubert narrows his eyes. "Just pick one so we can get this over with. Chocolate. Citrus. Earthy."

"Chocolate, cirius, earthy," the man repeats to himself. "Um. I like chocolate bars, I guess."

Hubert's eyes narrow into slits that are all too reminiscent of a poisonous viper about to lash out. "I'm not asking if you like candy, I'm asking if you enjoy and appreciate the subtleties of the flavor."

The man blinks back, as if there were some form of language barrier between them. Face red and beaded with sweat, the customers behind him begin to act unruly. His hammy hand folds across his bare lip and he thinks in deep concentration. Finally, he sighs. "Citrus."

Hubert nods and he smiles. Though Hubert's smiles are scarier than his frowns.

"Good," he says simply. "You will adore this, and — you will kindly tip us well for your adoration no other coffee shop could give you."

The man hands over the money and the rest of the transaction goes okay. When he walks away with his paper cup, he sniffs through the lid and a dreamy smile plasters his babyish face.

The next customer steps forward. "I want _just _coffee. None of that flowery bullshit either. Now."

Gone is Hubert's pleasant demeanor, decimated by his ugly sneer. "You will not be ordering _just_ coffee — "

* * *

"Hey! Hey!" Dorothea leans against the bar. "Don't you walk away from me?! I see your wallet, man! I know you have money! Go and TIP!"

Byleth doesn't know why they picked Dorothea for bar. Immediately, they begin scouting for the next barista and the first thing their mind goes to is: _I need someone to not yell at customers._

…

Bernie!

Currently, Bernadetta is panicking at the pastry case, dropping cinnamon roll after cinnamon roll with her tongs. Face beat-red, she clearly hates this. Putting her on bar could be a fate worse than death.

But… are they not already in Hell?

"_Sorry that took so long, sir, but your order is stupid," _Dorothea clicks her tongue like a very mena soccer mom.

That is as good of a call to action as any, so Byleth pinches Bernadetta by the wrist and drags her over to Dorothea. "Bernie — Bar, Dorothea — Pastries."

The swap happens fast, all the while, Byleth rationalizes it all under their breath. "Dorothea is great with people, except when they get snippy which they do at hand-off. Bernadetta is horrible with people but good at keeping her head down so therefore…"

Byleth pauses. Bernadetta is seriously taking their sweet time with finishing this one latte. "Uh… Bernie?"

"Huh? Oh! Professor!" Bernadetta chirps. "Look! I made a bunny!"

Byleth leans over and looks into the cup to see a cute li'l bunny made out of foam. "Um… Bernie, we're kind of in a rush and — "

"B-b-b-but the customer's name is Peter! Like Peter Rabbit!" Bernie holds her hands limp like a bunny apparently might, and then falls back crying. "Oh no oh no stupid Bernie stupid… I'm gonna get fired, you're gonna fire me, aren't you? I'm so sorry, Professor…"

"No, Bernie, don't…"

"Hold the phone!" a loud, round man calls out. His pink hand gestures to the drink. "That's mine."

Bernadetta frowns, legs quaking below her, as she hands off the latte to the man.

This man, Peter, gazes down at the drink, nose twitching. "Oh! You made a li'l bunny! Ha ha! Thank you. Like Peter Rabbit, I was wondering if a barista would make that connection. I will definitely come back next time, little lady!"

He winks and walks off. Off in the distance, Byleth notices Seteth turn their way and wink back himself.

Byleth grins and pats Bernadetta on the shoulder. "Keep it up, champ."

* * *

"Woops!" Edelgard screams, slipping on a loose piece of trash on the floor. Hot milk spills all over hands and she yelps, jumping back and bumping into Petra. Immediately, Edelgard dives at the sink to wash her blistering hands. "Petra! Would you please be more careful with the trash you sweep up!?"

Byleth frowns and looks at the floor; it is a pigsty. Petra is good at cleaning, but far too careful and precise. It would work for a small shop, but not one that is offloading trash to the floor every few seconds.

"Petra…" Byleth sighs, looking around at their team, and notices Dorothea still fuming over the pastry case. "Swap with Dorothea."

Like all the other swaps, this one takes too.

Petra does well with pastries; so precise with the tongs, she hands each dessert off with the finesse of a dancer.

Dorothea is horrible with precision, but makes for a terrifying blunt force to the garbage. She slams the broom across the floor with such rigor that nothing stands in her way. More importantly, she _likes_ it.

How did this happen though? How did Byleth misjudge the other students?

"Your choices were bold, Professor, but you're far too kind," Linhardt drawls, flicking a stray piece of cheese into the trash.

Byleth looks at Linhardt, this sleepy little boy who would rather nap than do — well — anything else. Possibly the laziest person they have ever met, especially when it comes to kindness.

"Linhardt…" Byleth frowns. "You're… let me take the ovens. You manage the floor."

"What? Me?" Linhardt gasps. "No, Professor, you misjudge again, I can't — Caspar! Customers don't like jokes like that, cut it out!"

Caspar looks over his shoulder, his hands folded into some bizarre pantomime of a bird above his head. "Aw. Okay."

Byleth nods. "You're the Floor Manager, Linhardt."

"No," Linhardt looks like he's about to cry.

"You _have _to. I can't do it. You know these guys better than me."

"I — "

"No more flying cheese. No more mess. Just yell at us. Please! I'm bad at it."

"...oh fine," Linhardt sighs, peeling off his plastic gloves and dropping them in the trash.

* * *

Things go well.

But then… suddenly, it ends.

The Blue Lions finish first, followed immediately by the Golden Deer. Claude screams as the final drink meets the final customer's hand a moment too late. He pounds the bar in frustration, but smirks when he catches that the Black Eagles still have one customer left.

And it's at Hubert's register. Great. All eyes turn on this one interaction.

"I would like a triple half-caf medium sumatran misto with steamed almond milk, light on the foam, and extra hot," a customer spits out in fast succession, digging through his wallet fast for the change.

"Cute," Hubert grins, flashing his teeth. "You will not be ordering that at this store."

Oh God no why.

"Wh-what?" the customer slackjaws, still finding the needed change to purchase this drink.

"Go light on the foam and you will muddy the flavor of the coffee," Hubert explains, limp hand gesturing with the sharpie, the boy having avoided scrawling a single letter across the cup. "You want it with _heavy _with foam, that way when our excellent Sumatran roast washes through the foam, it will have this subtle, chocolate flavor with it that bubbles against the lips and tongue so pleasantly."

The customer nods, face scrunching up and looking away, as if actually considering it. Then he smirks. "No. This has been my order for five years at every coffee shop. Make what I ask or I'll take my business elsewhere."

"Ha!" Hubert cackles. "That's endearing — you think this shop needs you? Goddess, no. And do you _need_ a drink light on the foam? I say it again — Goddess, no. But I need something. Your unwavering happiness."

The customer watches Hubert carefully. "Is this a prank?"

"No," Hubert almost spits. "You will be ordering the drink as I tell you to order it, and you will like it. It will be served to you on the house. The $5.65 you have correctly been rummaging for can be given to us tomorrow, when you return here at the same time to order the same drink that gave you so much joy."

"Um…" the customer frowns. "Um."

"Get out of here," Hubert gestures to the line at the hand-off bar. "And prepare yourself for something truly special."

The moment the man dashes to the hand-off, Seteth strokes his beard and waves for everyone's attention. "While the Black Eagles finish their last customer _behind schedule_, let's discuss results."

Dammit. So they lost. Why even bother? Byleth thinks while dumping a wet bag of coffee grind down the trash. Everyone seems glum, except for Hubert who for whatever reason is glowing. He even goes out of his way to prepare the drink himself. How odd.

"The Blue Lions were exceptional," Seteth nods to Dimitri. "In finishing at least. Customer service was poor, earning you no extra points beyond your earned ⅗. Dedue, you scowl far too much, and Felix, you can be quite despicable. In the future, please do not call your customers boars."

Dimitri sends Felix a scathing look. Neatly cropped hair now frayed from stress, he forces a smile. "But we won, that's what you are saying?"

Seteth perks up his chin. "The Golden Deer," he announces as if no one asked him anything, as if he were in his own world. "Had some incredible customer service, and did amazing with the drinks. They had the least amount of reorders, _however_…"

And this time, Seteth's prickly gaze falls onto Lorenz who blushes.

"...the coup staged mid-competition by Lorenz was highly inappropriate," Seteth clicks his tongue. "And Claude, your reaction to it was poor. See, you hardly noticed, but Ignatz and Marianne both did."

Marianne and Ignatz, the quietest of the Deer prick up at the mention of their names. Both embarrassed. "They each saw customers leave your line to go to… _the Black Eagles._"

Wait… could it be?

"But you didn't listen to them, Claude," Seteth says with the gravity of the Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come. "Because they're quiet. Your ⅖ has been boosted by an additional ⅖, because of stellar service from Raphael, Hilda, and Leonie. Now, that leaves the Black Eagles…" Seteth raises a suspicious eyebrow at the rich kids, noticeably annoyed at Hubert's slow speed at the bar. "Your House was easily the biggest mess. Am I correct in assuming that you have all changed positions by now?"

Byleth throws both hands on their hips. "Yes."

"Hm. Intriguing," Seteth shrugs. "Anywho, it is a tight race. The Blue Lions in most cases would win, but the Golden Deer just managed to edge out over them, at ⅘. With the Black Eagles at a lowly ⅕ it would take a miracle for them to triumph really…"

"Here you go, sir," Hubert whispers politely, bowing back after handing off the latte.

The gentlemen takes one sip of the latte, and gasps. "Oh my! What is — this is — "

"Use your words, sir," Hubert grins.

"How did you — " the gentleman sputters. " — could you write down what you did? So that I can order it other places?"

"There is no need for that," Hubert cackles.

The gentleman's face goes red. "Excuse me?!"

"You will come here and here only from now on to order coffee," Hubert licks his teeth. "That is why."

"Oh, wow, you're good," the man says and walks away, delighted.

It's then that Hubert finally catches everyone staring at him. His pale cheeks light up and he steps back, "What?"

Seteth grins from ear to ear and throws a hand towards the Black Eagles. "Ladies and gentlemen… for exemplary customer service, and improvisational management that adapted to conditions, I give you this year's winner…"

_This can't be happening, _Byleth thinks.

_Right?! He must be leading you guys on… right? _Sothis shoots back.

Seteth looks Byleth directly in the eyes, and for the first time offers a smile that makes him look human. "...with a full ⅘ for customer service, and a ⅕ for completion, making for a perfect score, I give you — "

"_Holy shit,"_ Sothis quakes.

"The Black Eagles!"

…

Byleth promptly passes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can [follow me on Twitter](https://twitter.com/IAmLordMeatwad) for tweets about my cats and fanfic, and [follow me on Insta](https://www.instagram.com/katrinajagelski/) for similar stuff. Occasionally I do live reads for my original fiction and fanfic.


	3. Union Busting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth, Edelgard, and the Black Eagles give Kostas a hard time.

"Apologies that Miss Rhea is unable to meet with you two today, something important came up in Faerghus and she had to cross the river to take care of it," Seteth says listlessly, gesturing for Byleth and Edelgard to take a seat at the man's desk. A month has passed since the House Barista Championship, and the Black Eagles have not only been running the Seirosbucks store with little supervision, but the students have been pulling 60+ hour weeks between work and class.

When Byleth cornered Hanneman and Manuela to ask about how to go about fixing this, they both shrugged. Apparently, arranging for a direct meeting with Miss Rhea is impossible — unless of course she summons you. Which can happen at any given moment.

But at the sight of Seteth, this high-strung poindexter of an Executive Assistant, sitting across them in the place of Miss Rhea — well, Byleth feels a little crestfallen.

"Is this regarding Lonato's location?" Edelgard asks, crossing her arms.

Seteth waits a moment before responding, as if he is considering the repercussions of telling the truth, and then shrugs. "Yes, it does have to do with Lonato's location, but I would not worry about that. His unionizing efforts shall never encroach upon our good company."

Why, if Byleth had a glass of water, they would surely spittake. "Wait — you — don't like unions?"

Seteth arches his brow very high so he can save his breath from answering in the affirmative.

"Seirosbucks claims that adopting a worker's union common _Fight for 15_ campaign would cripple the budget," Edelgard explains with obvious contempt. "That it would drain resources and prevent the company both from growing, and hiring new baristas. Paired with the conception that union workers are lazier, given to looser guidelines, a union would doom the company."

This clearly strikes a nerve with Seteth. "I would watch your tongue, Miss Hresvelg,because if I didn't know better, I would believe you were using sarcasm in this office."

Byleth sighs.

"_Are you really shocked?"_ Sothis exclaims within their mind. "_This place is so bougey, it just screams union busting."_

_Which explains why Jeralt hated this place so much, _Byleth decides.

"I take it both of you are Pro-Lonato," Seteth says. "Well, your next mission should help adjust your perspectives."

"Mission?" Byleth frowns. "My students are already working full time with twenty hours added on for class. We're at capacity."

Seteth flinches, which is rare for him. He is always so cold. "I was not made aware of this. Hm. Does Miss Rhea know?"

Byleth shakes her head, which is appropriate enough of a response, which of course means Edelgard has to say something defiant, "She is next to impossible to contact. The professor spoke with Professors Hanneman and Manuela who told us it is what it is."

Byleth bites their lip, anticipating all of Seteth's good will to just fly out the window right now, but instead he sighs, removing his glasses so that he may palm his forehead. "It is, yes. I believe the intent of the program is to teach you what it's like to be working around the clock — but it is perhaps excessive. I… I will help you. The Golden Deer and Blue Lion students are only working part time, and at locations with more than enough employees. I am giving you permission to select some students to switch into your location so that the schedule may be more balanced. If you get any pushback from Gilbert in HR, you may direct him to me."

Byleth nods, mind clouding fast. Such a quick solution. But who to even hire? Leonie, Ignatz, and Raphael from the Golden Deer are all gifted, but pulling them away from Claude is… going to be hard.

Suddenly, Sothis snaps, "_Dummy! Listen to Seteth when he is speaking directly to you!"_

Byleth jerks back into consciousness, fortunate enough that Seteth's droning had prevented him noting the Professor as a total space cadet.

"...Kostas is an ex-employee, and runs a union store off Zanodo Road, but he is utilizing recipes from our store. It's a contract breach, and he has ignored our multiple cease and desist letters. You will travel to his store, and shut him down. The nine of you."

Edelgard stifles in her seat. "Um, with all due respect — isn't that a little… militant?"

Seteth nods. "Yes, and you of all people should understand why we must operate in such a fashion."

Byleth looks to Edelgard; clearly there is something about her that Byleth does not know, which is… normal. It's not normal to not know something about someone. But they cannot deny how irrevocably sad it makes them.

"My students are familiar with the policy side of it," Byleth says, trying to regain control of the conversation. "But I'm worried about sending them on a mission like this."

Seteth leans back. "It's what you signed up for, Professor. Now please take this week to prepare yourself for next Saturday you will be paying Kostas a visit."

* * *

Byleth watches carefully as a seventeen year old boy in a hoodie samples two different black coffees. It would be a fair test, if it weren't for Hubert leering at him from behind. Byleth notes to Sothis that they need to have a talk with Edelgard later about making Hubert less… murdery.

"The coffees taste the same!" the boy anxiously yelps.

Kostas, standing besides Byleth, pounds the wooden table below his fist. "Dammit! That's not fair!"

Edelgard saunters over, staring daggers at the burly man with three ponytails. "It is fair — you're using the same blend that makes Seirosbucks Coffee."

Hubert snatches both cups and brings them to his nose, breathing in carefully. "Kostas could be right, I don't trust this boy's pallette."

"Hey man, my palette is fine!" the boy shouts.

"You were drinking a frappucino," Hubert hisses and the boy instantaneously backs off.

Edelgard waves Hubert off. "Don't mind him — he's pretentious. If you want to deny it, Kostas, feel free to — but once the boys downtown analyze the beans, they'll find exactly what you are denying."

Kostas grimaces at Edelgard, but then snaps into some odd space between spaces. He scratches his head. "Your voice… don't I know you from somewhere?"

Edelgard, previously stretching onto her toes so that she may look Kostas in the eye, recoils.

Byleth doesn't really get why. "Yeah, you're the scum I bumped into a few months ago," they say.

Edelgard frowns. "Yes, correct… um… good memory, my teacher. I'll go… uh, assist Ferdinand."

Byleth tries to stop Edelgard from wandering off but it is far too late; the girl is very quick when she wants to be. They shake their head and turn back to Kostas. "You're sniping baristas from our stores by offering them the same exact gig but with union benefits."

Kostas flashes his pearly whites at Byleth. "What's wrong with that, huh?"

"It's that you're stealing," Byleth grimaces.

"And also cloning an already mediocre product," Hubert adds on.

"Hubert!" Byleth scolds. "You don't need to keep flexing; we all know you looooove coffee."

"Hmph."

Impossible. How on Earth did this band of miscreants manage to pull off a win at the Barista Championship? It's absurd.

"Now hold on, Edelgard," Ferdinand exclaims from the distance. "Before you help me carry this brewing machine, I wish for you to observe how I carry it, so that you may try it yourself and see how superior I am to carrying thi—"

CRASH.

"Ferdinand!" Edelgard screeches. "That is essential evidence!"

"I know, I know, I just — oh no, Dorothea, would you please find me the mop?"

"No way," Dorothea huffs, stepping over the flood of coffee expelling from the machine.

"I do not know why Dorothea has such disdain for me," Ferdinand moans in a somehow chipper tone. "She says I am a bee. Certainly not… right?"

Byleth shakes their head and turns back to Kostas. This whole thing is weird. "You're using the same machine as the brewer? That's a lot of work, to develop your own copycat…"

"Yes," Kostas says, suddenly nervous. "Lotta work. Took months."

"Yeah," Byleth sighs. "I'm finding it hard to believe you did this on your own. According to your employee records, you were fired without notice. There's no way you could have figured out how to mimic Seirosbucks so precisely…" They stroke their chin. "...unless you had help."

* * *

Edelgard is tense. When Byleth pats them on the shoulder to grab their attention, both of the girl's shoulders spike up like a scared cat's. It is very unlike her. "Hey, um, this Kostas guy isn't telling me the truth," Byleth says. "I was hoping you could help me."

Edelgard's foggy eyes take a moment to catch up, and then she nods. "Ah, yes. I think I can help you."

Again, so unlike Edelgard to be this openly distracted. Byleth considers Kostas back in the break room and decides that he can wait; it's time to be a Professor (for once.) "Hey, Edelgard, um, what's up? You seem upset."

"Hm?" Edelgard says vacantly. "Oh, um, shoot. You noticed? My apologies, my teacher."

"Well, let's get you out of it, before Ferdinand decides it's a good time to show you how superior he is at acting sad," Byleth smirks. "Seriously, what's up?"

Edelgard thinks that over for a moment, definitely trying to lie her way out of this.

Byleth shakes her head. "And don't tell me it's because you're besides yourself about the fact that someone would steal this shitty Seirosbucks stuff."

Edelgard laughs, which is a nice thing. Byleth wants Edelgard to remain that happy. "My teacher, you should keep your voice down. You don't want Rhea overhearing that."

That one takes Byleth a second. The way Edelgard said it makes it sound like she honestly believes that — but that's a joke, right? Yet regardless of the intent, Edelgard half-heartedly chuckles it off, guiding Byleth over to the break room.

But along the way, they pick out one of the remaining employees: a young black woman with crossed arms. Byleth raises an eyebrow inquisitively at Edelgard targeting a non-Kostas person.

"I think you're right, Professor. Kostas got help, but his word cannot be trusted," Edelgard says. "But I'm sure he blabbed at some point to his staff…" She leans in to Byleth's ear and whispers, "...and they actually have incentive to tell us the truth."

Though Edelgard's whisper distracts Byleth long enough that they miss that part. So they just sort of hope for the best, still distracted by how cute Edelgard's voice sounds when it is that small, even during the interrogation.

* * *

"Comfortable?" Edelgard asks, pulling out a fold-out chair for herself. The breakroom is cramped, the tall shelves loaded with syrups and beans taking up way more space than health code would permit. "What's your name?"

The girl sighs. "Peggy. Am I losing my job?"

"Not necessarily," Edelgard says, though Byleth doesn't know if even that is true. Miss Rhea is… harsh. "You're trained on Seirosbucks, and could easily get a job at one of our stores. If you help us, that is."

Peggy crosses her arms. "Well I get benefits after forty consistent hours of work every week here, and at Seirosbucks, you get it after thirty… meaning you never work more than twenty nine every week."

Edelgard sighs. "I do hate that. Please understand: we may work for Seirosbucks, but neither of us… um, how did you put it Professor?"

Byleth blinks, and then bows their head down to Peggy. "We don't give a shit."

This at least gets Peggy to laugh. Jeralt would proud of Byleth for that one.

"You aren't in trouble," Edelgard explains. "And we'll both do our best to help you as long as you help us… do you understand?"

Peggy frowns, and looks both of them in the eye. Being a barista often teaches one to learn very quickly how to read people. Clearly, Peggy is a good barista. She deserves better than Seirosbucks. (Hashtag: Don't Tell Seteth.)

"He never told us, but Kostas spent at least a third of his management shifts back here," Peggy says with a sullen expression. "Skyping with this dude… he um… called himself the Flame Emperor."

A twitch in Edelgard's eyebrow. She nods. "It's okay. Please. Explain."

"The voice on the mic was distorted, and he didn't broadcast his video, he just put up a picture of this… um… symbol, but…"

"Could you draw it for us?" Byleth asks, trying to be helpful.

Edelgard twitches again; what is with her?

"But he definitely has intel on Seirosbucks. It sounded like he had someone on the inside," Peggy says. "I, um, didn't ask questions. We definitely weren't supposed to overhear."

Byleth forces a smile. "Hey, you did good. Don't worry, we'll just say Kostas told us this. It sounds like… he likes unions, so he probably won't go out of his way to hurt you, okay?"

"Thanks," Peggy nods. "I need this job. I'm paying for my own schooling and everything."

"I know what that's like," Byleth responds. "We'll take care of you. Hey, let's — "

"Hold on," Edelgard says suddenly, leering at Peggy like an angry cat might another cat. If they're a fussy, territorial cat, that is. "Why would someone do this? What do you think this Flame Emperor wants?"

"Um," Peggy frowns, falling back into that uncomfortable place. "I dunno."

"Edelgard…" Byleth chides. "Chill."

Edelgard looks up at Byleth, and immediately loosens up. "Sorry, this is — I don't know why this is affecting me so much. But please, Peggy, you're smart. I know it's incriminating but please trust that we will help you. This is a very serious threat to Seirosbucks… depending on what this person wants. Do you think he wants money?

"Who? Kostas?" Byleth asks.

Edelgard rolls her eyes. Through gritted teeth, she whispers, "The Flame Emperor."

Inside Byleth's head, Sothis cackles at the interaction, and forces a visual into Byleth's mind's eye of a frowning Edelgard face next to an arrow pointing down. "_Minus one point for you, Byleth!"_

"No," Peggy says after some careful consideration. "Kostas actually asked the Flame Emperor for money at one point… it went poorly."

Byleth raises an eyebrow. "Why did he ask that?"

"Because Seirosbucks stores aren't meant to run on a union model," Peggy explains. "He wasn't making any profit off this… but the Flame Emperor insisted that he run a union operation."

Edelgard scratches her cheek. "So why would he steal so much from Seirosbucks?" But it's a guiding question, she definitely knows the answer already.

Peggy nods, clasping both hands and dropping them to her knees while she thinks it over. "I think… the Flame Emperor wants to destroy Seirosbucks."

Edelgard smiles.

Peggy continues, "Don't ask me why, I just… got that kinda vibe."

"Damn," Byleth mutters. "This is heavy. So they are some kind of… corporate terrorist?"

Edelgard shrugs. "Well, Professor, if you _had_ to be a terrorist of some sort, wouldn't corporations be the best target?" She pauses, as if actually expecting an answer.

"Um," Byleth purses their lips. "Edelgard, that's uh…"

"Oh! Um, I was kidding," Edelgard says hurriedly. "Only joking, hehe… hey, I have an idea. Why don't we take you and your staff out for coffee?"

"What? From the coffee brewers you guys ripped out of the walls?" Peggy deadpans.

"No, like, in the spirit of the Flame Emperor," Edelgard says, neatly folding her chair back up, holding out a hand for Peggy to pass her chair over. "Why don't we go to a nearby mom and pop store?"

Peggy shakes her head. "No, this whole neighborhood is only chain restaurants at this point."

Edelgard hesitates, and for whatever reason, Byleth thinks that actually makes Edelgard sad. It sort of makes Byleth sad too. "Well, we'll figure something out," Edelgard shrugs. "Please join us. It's my treat!"

Peggy forces a smile. "No, sorry, I honestly have to head out to my second job about now. But it was cool meeting you guys."

"Alright, well, we're going to hang back and search Kostas' computer for any records of the Flame Emperor," Edelgard says, bowing politely. "It was nice meeting you."

"Likewise, somehow," Peggy grins, and walks off.

Immediately, Edelgard turns on Byleth. "This is a lot more dramatic than you figured it would be, huh?"

Byleth nods. "Yeah, but, um… I think we're on the same page, a corporate terrorism plot to destroy Seirosbucks through seemingly innocuous means? I don't know, I'm more worried about finding barista positions for all the people losing their jobs today…"

Edelgard nods, but turns away so that she's harder to read. Byleth is sure that's why, Edelgard is acting very mysterious…

"I feel that too," Edelgard says. "These workers deserve better. I think we should spend time as a class figuring out how to plead their case."

Damn. Edelgard is unbelievable sometimes… who would think a rich kid like her would have such sympathy for the working class?

"Hey Edelgard," Byleth says.

"Yes Professor?"

"I'm really happy I chose the Black Eagles… and you."

Edelgard turns away again, but not quickly enough for Byleth to not notice the blush plume across her cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am embarrassed that it took me as long as it did to realize that the equivalent of the bandit mission from White Clouds would be union busting for this fic.
> 
> This chapter is a lot lighter on the humor because I actually have to develop a story now. We'll see where this goes haha.
> 
> You can [follow me on Twitter](https://twitter.com/IAmLordMeatwad) for tweets about my cats and fanfic, and [follow me on Insta](https://www.instagram.com/katrinajagelski/) for similar stuff. Occasionally I do live reads for my original fiction and fanfic.


	4. To the Death of Capitalism

“You cannot possibly expect us to work like this, Seteth!”

Byleth has never seen Edelgard so enraged, though they suppose it was only a matter of time; the past month has been grueling.

Lonato, a local Regional Director for Seirosbucks and Miklan, a lead Manager from one of the more popular Seirosbucks in the outskirts of town, are spearheading a protest. Many of their baristas are on strike with him in the efforts to finally be permitted to unionize and receive actual fair benefits.

Byleth can’t comment on it officially as a Professor at the Garreg Mach Barista School for the Gifted, but they are #WithLonato. Jeralt is too, actually, almost everyone Byleth is in immediate contact with is #WithLonato.

Even Edelgard. Edelgard, who has been forced to organize phonebanks targeted at Seirosbucks baristas who are highly susceptible to fear mongering tactics and disinformation campaigns. Edelgard who has been forced to organize busts with her Eagles where they blitzkrieg Seirosbucks locations and hand out anti-union literature.

Today, Edelgard is red faced and smacking a stack of paper scripts against Seteth’s desk over and over and over again.

“Are you done?” Seteth arcs an eyebrow high.

Panting, Edelgard shakes her head. “These scripts are full of lies and you know it, Seteth. How am I supposed to bust this union when you can’t even give me good material to work with?”

Seteth pinches the bridge of his nose, and there’s just enough of a trace to a twitch that Byleth can sense that Edelgard is  _ right _ .

Seteth’s voice is strained, “Edelgard, I am doing the best I can for you, I’m sorry. I’m trusting you to be discreet, but I am uncomfortable with these tactics as well but… allow me to offer you some career advice.” He releases the hold on his nose and winds both hands behind his back. “This isn’t the first time you’ll be asked to do something you don’t believe in, and you need to say  _ Yes _ , Edelgard. Every time.”

Edelgard pounds her gloved hands against her hips. “It’s not right.”

“No, it’s not,” Seteth says quickly. “But if we always did the right thing, this company wouldn’t have lasted long enough for any of you to be hired, so be thankful we’ve gotten away with it for this long.”

A silence passes over where neither Edelgard nor Byleth dare speak.

Seteth sighs and shows his hand to the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I have about two hundred emails to answer about the protests and I’m sure you can understand how hard I need to concentrate to be a good liar here. Please.”

Edelgard sighs and sneaks a glance at Byleth before passing by. 

Seteth sighs and raps his fingers against his desk. “If you have issues with our literature, talk to Gilbert. He writes all of them.”

Ah,  _ the Shield of Seiros _ . Of course. Byleth frowns and shoots a warning glance to Edelgard, “ _ Don’t,” _ they say. Gilbert is not going to ever be swayed by them, and any complaints will just get them in hot water.

* * *

Unfortunately the damage is done and the Black Eagles are escorted to Lonato’s office with the Sword of Seiros. Catherine is her name. Decked out in a high-waisted white pants, a tank top, and a snow white denim jacket, eyes concealed by sunglasses, she’s Lady Rhea’s goon of a bodyguard. Somehow, she’s managed to pull off having a license to carry with this massive gun she’s always got up on her shoulder, Thunderbrand. Probably ex-military or something.

After Edelgard flashes the search warrant at Lonato, Catherine ushers him and his team away, dipping her sunglasses just low enough to send an urgent message to Edelgard and Byleth that this is their last shot.

They have ten minutes with Lonato’s computer. Edelgard tries her best but doesn’t make much progress.

“Can I ask you something?” Byleth says when it’s obvious the two of them, and their Eagles, are about to be fired and blacklisted from the corporate espionage industry. 

Edelgard chances a look back. “We don’t have time, sorry.” She looks back to the computer, the blue light shining over her face. She’s so laser focused on success. Dressed in a black suit with business shorts instead of slacks, bright red leggings conceal her flesh, as do her gloves. So guarded. She pounds the desk with one fist, back arching in a way that’s highly irresponsible.

“Edelgard,” Byleth says.

“What?” Edelgard spits back.

“Why are you so frustrated? You think this is bullshit, I know you do. You might as well have told Seteth that you were with Lonato.”

Edelgard looks back curiously, a smile growing on her face.

It makes Byleth feel so flustered! “This isn’t... funny, I dunno. Why are you fighting to make our shitty phonebank scripts better when you understand the damage they’re doing?”

Edelgard holds onto that smile for a while, before it gets sad again. She shrugs. “Take a guess, Byleth. I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now.”

Byleth blinks. “No, that’s why I’m asking you about this in form of a question.”

“No you’re not,” Edelgard groans. “Don’t be coy with me — I get it enough from Hubert. You know I’m not a corporate suck-up and I’m planting myself here to destroy Seirosbucks and ideally, capitalism itself.”

Byleth frowns. They did actually sort of know that, but didn’t expect it to for real be Edelgard’s deal. 

Edelgard looks away. “And how does that make you feel towards me, Professor?”

_ Aroused? _

Sothis, no — stop.

_ Turned on? _

Yes, Sothis, turned on, but I can’t tell her that.

“I like it,” Byleth says simply, much to Sothis’ chagrin. They blush, because that was possibly the dumbest thing they could have said.

Edelgard laughs at least, it’s like music to Byleth’s ears. Her chuckle becomes a guffaw and she wipes tears from her eyes. “Professor, come closer. We don’t have time and I need you to see this.”

Byleth gets closer and sidles besides Edelgard who was apparently staring straight into the spot she expected Byleth to slip into. She nods and raises her gloves, gripping it by the hem and pulling it off slowly. 

At first, it’s a normal hand and then these green shafts of light slink in and divide her hand into segments like she’s some sort of…

“Technically, I’m an android at this point,” Edelgard sighs and lazily drags her hand up to the screen. Byleth is just sort of stunned, like, this can’t be real right? This is fake, it’s a hoax, it’s… their brow furrows while they really concentrate on Edelgard, taking in every detail. 

Her eyes light up into a pure white and she just stays like that for a few seconds. Then it ends and she slips the glove back on. “Lonato’s kid, Christophe, killed someone, and he concealed evidence. There it is, that’s the case, let’s report back to Catherine.”

Edelgard whirls around to leave but of course, Byleth can’t just, like, walk away from that? and grips Edelgard firmly by the shoulders, holding her in place and looking deep into her eyes. 

“What?” is all Byleth can fathom saying.

Edelgard slouches back in the chair. “It’s complicated.”

Byleth is still sort of slack-jawed. “I’m… I have a robot girl in my head.”

_ Not a robot, not a girl. But proceed. _

“Sorry, she’s mad at me for saying that,” Byleth smirks, hoping they don’t come off as totally nuts. “She’s… software? In my head.”

Edelgard nods like this makes absolute sense and takes Byleth’s hand firmly. “I know,” she whispers, eying the door. She looks back to Byleth and her voice somehow gets even quieter. “We have the same software; we’re connected.”

Byleth blinks and thinks that one over and somehow, that makes sense to them. As shocked as they are, they also know that they should be more surprised by Edelgard’s body and they aren’t. Because they could already sense it. 

“Okay,” Byleth says.

Edelgard smiles and gives Byleth a warm caress to the back. “We’ll be okay, we’ll talk about it and — ”

The door opens and Catherine slides in with expectation in her posture. “You got it?”

Edelgard releases and stands ramrod straight, very professional. “We have exactly what you need Catherine,” she says, and that seems to please the Sword of Seiros enough. Byleth just sort of stares.

As much as they are connected — literally — to Edelgard, there’s still a lot they don’t understand, like how Edelgard is able to just turn on a dime like that. It’s impressive but also… it scares them a lot. Edelgard looks back and her cold eyes warm up quickly, just for that spare moment and she motions for Byleth to follow her. 

She’s happy at least. Hopefully this can work out.

* * *

Byleth later receives a text from Edelgard asking to meet her at the pool around 10pm. Yes, Garreg Mach does indeed have a pool. It’s outdoors and lit up by street lights at all four corners. It’s never really felt that safe to be at, but Byleth is okay with it if it’s for Edelgard.

Byleth arrives first. They never really know what to wear when swimming. A two piece or one piece would be great, they love the feeling of the skin tight material and the freedom it gives their skin, but they also know it makes them feel feminine enough that it begins to get dysphoric. So they opt in for their classic: t-shorts and boyshorts. Bored, they sidle over to the deep end and begin to take a seat when they freeze up.

“Sothis,” Byleth says out loud, confident no one else is nearby to listen in. “If I’m a robot now, am I going to short-circuit going underwater?”

“ _ You’re not a robot,” _ Sothis sighs. “ _ Not even an android, don’t even think about it.” _

Byleth furrows their brow. “How do I know you’re not lying to me so I blow myself up, and you can take my place?”

“ _ Ugh, because I already have control over your body.” _

“What — ”

Byleth’s arm swings up and slaps themselves right across the cheek. Slack-jawed and stunned, they just sort of sit there while Sothis cackles away.

“ _ Marvel at my power, now how about you try? Try saying ‘Go Go Gadget Destructo Beam.’” _

Byleth doesn’t even think about it, they just start muttering the words, but nothing happens. They tilt their head to the side, so disappointed. “No Destructo beam? I said Go Go Gadget, right?”

There’s a giggle from behind Byleth and turn on their hip to see an approaching Edelgard.

“Amazing that your software can talk back to you,” Edelgard says, still standing. “I’m almost jealous.”

“Don’t be,” Byleth says, and then focuses on Edelgard’s outfit. Not quite what they were expected.

As is classic Edelgard, none of her skin aside from the neck up is shown. She’s in a black latex full-body swim suit, complete with gloves and flippers. Hair tied back many times over into a full-on knot, she does not necessarily appear as someone who would like to have fun. Though she takes a seat besides Byleth, she does dip her calves into the water, but rather folds them into a cross-legged position. 

“What’s with the outfit?” Byleth raises an eyebrow.

Edelgard does a poor job at concealing her blush. “Remember the light from my hand?”

Byleth nods.

“Put  _ that _ and everything else I am into this pool and it will light up brighter than the Rockefeller Center,” Edelgard sighs. “Obviously this conversation is intended to be a secret, um, though if Hubert threatens you tomorrow or whatever, he does it out of love. Hubert already knows.”

Byleth bites their lip. A  _ conversation _ ? What’s that about? “You don’t wanna swim?”

Edelgard raises her brow and giggles, shaking her head. “No, I — apologies. I should have explained to you when we were still at Lonato’s, Catherine just makes me nervous.”

Byleth nods. They’d like to like Catherine, lady’s definitely a total lesbian so that’s cool… but there is such a thing as  _ bad queers _ .

“The pool is the ideal spot for all my meetings, though I loathe swimming,” Edelgard explains.

“You  _ loathe _ it?” Byleth smirks. Edelgard’s always trying to hard to be fancy.

Edelgard snorts. “My room is bugged, yours is too, most likely.”

Byleth blinks, and looks back. “How do you… why are you…”

“They don’t think I know,” Edelgard sighs. “And… if I can be honest, Professor, I think you need to be more careful. If you’re been programmed with the same software as I… and the Church knew enough about me to have my room bugged in advance, well…”

Byleth frowns. “I knew this job sucked. Every job that has anything to do with Dad is trash.”

Edelgard chuckles, but Byleth can tell she’s repressing something. Byleth leans over and taps her on the chin. “What’s up?”

Edelgard sighs, and allows one of her flippers to trace a line through the water. Shaking her head, she starts talking and she doesn’t stop for some time. It’s very sudden. 

“I had ten siblings growing up, but the world thinks that I, Edelgard von Hresvelg, am an only child. Why?” Her catlike eyes turn on Byleth expectantly, before falling into a very sad expression. She winds an elbow around her mouth and keeps talking, “I was abducted as a little girl. They took me and… it might be better for you to not know what it is they did to my body, but know that it killed my brothers and sisters. I’m the only one the program took to.”

Byleth isn’t sure what to say. They guess they should just listen?

“Why hacking software?” Edelgard asks rhetorically. “I… I can’t say, just yet. I wish I could tell you everything, Professor, but for your safety, Professor…”

Byleth squeezes Edelgard’s hand and that seems to calm them down enough. 

Edelgard allows herself a smile before continuing, “There are… people, who have a certain destiny for me in mind. I don’t intend to follow their path, they think they can overthrow Seirosbucks and build an even stronger corporation in its place, but I won’t be part of that story… I don’t think you want to be either.” She hooks her chin against her knee, eyes half-lidded, and smiles gently.

“These corporations employ millions and establish both comfort and stability to where they’re built… or at least, that’s what the people say.  _ But the people are wrong. _ ”

Byleth’s breath hitches and they look deep into Edelgard’s eyes and right now, all they could ever want is to help and protect Edelgard.

“Corporations don’t do our society any favors,” Edelgard says. “They destroy lives and put others down. It can’t stand, we need to stop them.” Then Edelgard stops talking. 

Byleth frowns. They were hoping for more. How do they stop them? Is it just Seirosbucks? What is Edelgard actually doing?

Edelgard looks back to the chlorine water. “You don’t want to know what I’m working on; you’d hate me. Know I’m only excluding you for that… but if you can… if you can trust me and take my hand…” Then Edelgard physically reaches out for Byleth’s hand. Very corny, but Edelgard looks so hurt that Byleth doesn’t dare mock the gesture. They take her glove and caress her knuckle.

“Follow my lead, that’s all I ask,” Edelgard sighs. “Do you trust me?”

“What is this, Aladdin?” Byleth smirks, and Edelgard starts crying. They pull her in closer. “I’d rather you tell me more, but…”

Edelgard smiles faintly, but the hurt stays in her eyes.

“Professor… Byleth…” Edelgard almost hums. “Don’t you understand?”

Byleth shakes their head. “Obviously not. You’re anti-capitalism, so am I. It’s easy.”

Edelgard’s voice picks up in intensity. “No, it’s  _ not. _ ”

Byleth withdraws, feeling sort of hurt themselves.

Edelgard sighs, and it’s  _ scathing _ . “Your software was installed by Seirosbucks, You were programmed to destroy an internal threat:  _ me _ . Foolish they haven’t told you yet, but they will attempt to recruit you and…” Her head dips deeper into her body. “...I woludn’t be surprised if you walked with them and not me. It’s your decision, Byleth.”

“No,” Byleth drips Edelgard’s hand tight. “I choose you.”

Edelgard’s eyes widen and Byleth thinks they see sweat cross the girl’s brow. She twitches, like a cornered animal. She seems so… fucking afraid. It’s not fair.

Byleth leans in and kisses Edelgard on the lips the way the girl deserves. First, it’s tender but then Edelgard gets hungry and kisses harder, and then they nearly tumble, into the pool laughing.

To the death of capitalism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, my head is wrapped up in like 20 different projects right now. Probably not a good idea, but I'm feeling this story right now. : )

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to take this space to make a few things clear. I am currently planning on doing this chapter-for-chapter, and because Crimson Flower is 18 chapters, this will probably be 19 unless something crazy happens, or I think I can fit one of the Paralogues in really well.
> 
> I am taking a few creative liberties with this, which you kind of see in the Kostas scene, and the scene where Hanneman actually picks the House for Byleth. 
> 
> I am not sure yet if anyone will die. I do intend on having some really scary corporate terrorism in this, so we'll see. For the most part, I am going to try keeping this really fun. So expect some slice-of-life, some jokey jokes, some romance, and some action. 
> 
> I am writing this because I recently picked up an internship with a labor union. Most of my activism is connected to environmental efforts, so this is kinda new for me. I figured writing a story about this kind of work might help me out. 
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think!


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